


Kylo Ren and the Art of Words

by BloodyMary



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Gen, Humor, Kylo Ren's bad real person fanfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-12
Updated: 2017-11-12
Packaged: 2019-02-01 11:33:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,105
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12704193
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BloodyMary/pseuds/BloodyMary
Summary: In his quest to lure Rey to the Dark Side, Kylo Ren attempts fanfic. Historical fanfic with dashing Sith from the past such as Darth Revan and Darth Bane. It does not go as planned.





	Kylo Ren and the Art of Words

Kylo Ren had studied the Dark Side and its history under Lord Snoke for years now. And now, with the mysterious young woman who’d stolen his grandfather’s lightsaber from him on his mind, he thought he could see how to bring her to the Dark Side. He’d bend his gift for words and write a parable.

And he’d write about one of the greatest Sith Lords ever, on whose mask his own helmet was based. Yes. There was even a love story in there, and that was something females liked. (No, he had no memories of his mother commenting at length on why the melodramas from Shili are the silliest.)

He sat down in front of his computer, and let the Dark Side fill the depths of his soul. Then, in a fury of inspiration he wrote.

 

 

 

_Darth Revan gazed at his tenebrous inamorata with eyes as stygian as the void itself. Bastila's smouldering icy orbs bored into his own oculi, as her voluptuous bosom heaved and her nipples pierced the atramentous fabric of her robes._

That was as far as Rey managed to make it before she burst out laughing. Once her initial fit of giggles subsided, she thought it was just too good not to share. Quickly, she sketched a message to Finn.

Then, before sending it, she added another sentence: “Hey, how about we fix this and send it back to him?”

 

 

 

Finn looked at Rose. Rose looked at Poe. Poe looked at BB-8. BB-8 chirped.

They huddled together and didn’t leave Finn’s room for a week.

 

 

Kylo Ren’s inbox was getting full. The first message had been from Rey, and he’d opened it with a pounding heart. But the answer was not one he’d expected. Instead, it said:

“I fixed your story.

_Bastila said to Revan: “Nice ass for a Sith.”_

_Revan told her: “Nice tits for a Jedi.”_

_Then they fucked._

_The End._ ”

The next message had been from the traitorous FN-2187 and it contained something that looked like a novel. Kylo had only read the first few sentences.

“ _Four thousand years before_

_the rise of the Galactic_

_Empire, the Republic verges_

_on collapse. DARTH MALAK,_

_last surviving apprentice of_

_the DARK LORD REVAN, has_

_unleashed an invincible_

_Sith armada upon an_

_unsuspecting galaxy._ ”

The next was an impenetrable wall of pictograms with a few scattered acronyms. Nevertheless, Kylo knew what was there.

_“Ben, why would you think sending that to anyone was a good idea?”_

 

 

Phasma stared at her datapad. A message from that idiot Cardinal was sitting in her inbox. It was simple: “Look with whom you’re working. Who’s the idiot now?”

As if possessed by morbid curiosity, she had read the attachment and had to spend the next half an hour hiding in a closet so that no one could see her laugh. Then, because there was no time like the present to make another look foolish, she’d sent the story to all officers of the First Order anonymously.

 

 

 

Clearly, Kylo had chosen the wrong subject. He’d thought that the heart of a female would be swayed by romance, but now that he thought of the girl he remembered the fierce glint of her eyes as she wielded the stolen lightsaber. Perhaps, he needed to approach her from a different angle and present her with a tale of a peerless warrior.

Fortunately, the deeds of Darth Bane were many, and one of them stood out as a particular display of prowess.

Kylo once again sat down in front of his computer and channeled the Dark Side into his writing.

_Darth Bane left his abode, and gazed into the heaven’s as they poured their wrath in a gale of downpour. The cerise blade gripped in his extremity ignited with fury. Not a single raindrop approached him but was instantly metamorphosed into a wisp of brume that ascended into the stratosphere like exhaust from the burned flesh of a vanquished foe…_

 

 

Rey looked at the message incredulously. The first story was already ridiculous, but this one was just _stupid._ Really, if she’d been a dead Sith Lord, she’d have come back to life to stop Kylo Ren from writing.

But well, if he hadn’t learned his lesson yet, she could see if a second one would help.

She typed her version quickly enough.

_Darth Bane took out his umbrella, because his brain was not completely fried by the Dark Side yet, and he wasn't going to fight rain with a lightsaber like some idiot._

Temmin Wexley had just finished reading the… _thing_ Poe got from Rey, who got it from Kylo Ren of all people. It was even worse than the previous one.

It was also sort of entertaining. But lacked a certain... flair. Yes, that was it. And Temmin knew just the right droid to solve that.

 

 

 

Suralinda had seen and heard many a badly told story in her life. She’d heard many impossible and unbelievable stories in her life, too. This one didn’t stand out all that much from sentient mammals giving birth to non-sentient reptiles and tales of being kidnapped by tiny underwater magical faeries.

And the Jedi and the Sith had been long time favourites when it came to implausible stories. And, as it happened, Suralinda knew a few people who'd been collecting them

Perhaps she could make something useful out of Darth Bane…

 

 

Hux stared at the screen in silence, his brain having taken leave through his nose. It was probably on some beach by now and was drowning in colourful drinks made mostly out of fruit. Well, some of them would have a slice of fruit in them.

On the screen, an assassin droid of pre-Empire make was twirling and spinning in what appeared to be ballet. It was belting out line after line of Kylo Ren’s terrible story about Darth Bane. Occasionally, the droid would pause to comment.

“THE SITH WERE INEFFICIENT, BECAUSE THEY WASTED THEIR TIME FIGHTING RAIN,” it announced, “AND THEY COULD NOT GROW RUSTY.”

 

 

Supreme Leader Snoke was supremely uncomfortable. Apparently, someone had convinced an independent holo studio to make a series about some ancient Jedi with a horde of feline friends. That would be tolerable. What was not, was who she was fighting each and every episode: a caricature of a crone named Darth Dementia of all things, who’d make embarrassing pink sweaters for her apprentice, Darth Bane.

“What will we do, my Master?” the teenaged actor asked—a young man blessed with the face of a jerk and the voice to match.

Darth Dementia screeched, “The same thing we do every day, Bane—take over the galaxy!”


End file.
